


Start The Fuck Over

by justme133



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, all they want to be is together, how we all wish season 8 would go, set after season 7 obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 03:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11614659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justme133/pseuds/justme133
Summary: Really, they had tried to move on from each other - Mickey was in fucking Mexico, and Ian was supposed to have a fucking boyfriend.Shit happened.





	Start The Fuck Over

**Author's Note:**

> This fucking show.
> 
> I need season 8.
> 
> (Please ignore any grammar errors I'm just lazy)  
> (Mainly rated Mature for the language)

Really, they had tried to move on from each other - Mickey was in fucking Mexico, and Ian was supposed to have a fucking boyfriend.

 

Shit happened.

 

Ian and Trevor broke up. It was hard for him to lie about this anymore, and easier for him to just try the single life for a bit, which was something he had never done.

 

It also meant no sex. He didn't know if he was doing it as a way to be true to Mickey or what, but he just couldn't. He had found a balance of meds that kept him back to how he used to be, and he was happy.

 

His family didn't know he still talked to Mickey every now and then, and they didn't need to know.

 

Ian had a good job, had a good life.

 

He was okay. He was doing okay.

 

He missed Mickey.

 

But he didn’t dwell on that too much.

 

....

 

Mickey was doing okay in Mexico. He had found it ironic that he ended up living with a nice couple named Luis and Jonah, two guys who had known he was gay the minute they laid eyes on him and took him in. He was just glad they didn’t want sex from him - he was kinda turned off of fucking for right now, since Gallagher had to go and dump his ass at the border.

 

No, that wasn’t fair, he had asked Gallagher to basically uproot his whole fucking life for him.

 

What-fucking-ever, right?

 

He ended up spilling to them what had happened, and they had kept his secret, about him being an ex-con and all that shit, so that was good, and Mickey had even gotten a job, and he was doing good.

 

He called Ian every now and then, and fuck, it was so good to hear his voice, and double fuck, it was even better when he got to hear his fucking Gallagher tell him he loved him and he could say it back.

 

They were in way too deep, this shit was too real, Mickey couldn’t go back, but fuck it he couldn’t let go either.

Jonah was from the U.S, like him, and found him a job working at a semi-nice hotel as long as Mickey promised not to steal shit anymore. He worked security, something he liked, and got to rough people up if they looked suspicious.

 

Perfect job for him.

 

One day, when he had finished a particularly bad day of people trying to smuggle shit into the hotel, he was ready to crash in his room at Luis and Jonah’s only to find two American detectives in their living room.

 

“Ah fuck,” he mumbled, raising his hands. He had a good run, going on a whole fucking year before they caught him, but he didn’t feel like running now.

 

But they didn’t come after him.

 

“Milkovich?” They asked, and he nodded, slowly lowering his hands as they eyed him. “We need to talk to you.”

 

“What the fuck about?”

 

…

 

Ian had gone a year without Mickey, a year without sex, a year working and living life without losing control of his meds. He had told Fiona about the stint to Mexico, about all of it, and about his feelings for Mickey.

 

She just warned him to be careful, that bad guys were fun, but they could be dangerous too.

 

And Ian knew that. He knew Mickey was trouble, had known that since the first moment he had come storming into the Kash n Grab wanting to kill him. He had known that going in there with a tire iron and leaving with a bruised eye and a blissful feeling at knowing at good sex was like. 

 

He knew Mickey was trouble.

 

He also knew he was the one for him.

 

How ridiculous was that? What kind of shit was Ian in for if he was going to spend the rest of his life pining after some guy who was a batshit crazy ex-con?

 

To be fair, he fucked up the woman who tried to fuck up his life, so it was only fair.

 

Ian loved that fucker, and he didn’t know what to do about that.

 

…

 

“What the fuck?!” Mickey asked, looking at the two guys who he was staying with, they looked as shocked as he did.

 

The cops just repeated what they said and he let that settle in the air for a minute before he got that sadistic grin on his face before they handed him some papers and left.

 

“You said you’re from Chicago, right?” Jonah asked as Mickey stared 

 

“SouthSide bitch, you better not be thinking of those fucking rich ass white ass motherfucking-”

 

“Point taken,” Luis said as Jonah pulled out his phone. “His brother lives that way. He may be able to help get you back on your feet.”

 

“Fuck yeah, I’m going home.”

 

…

 

He didn’t call Ian to tell him. He couldn’t. Not yet.

 

Mickey was a lot of things, but for this he was something he wasn’t very often.

 

He was fucking scared.

 

He was scared Ian wouldn’t want to see him again, wouldn’t want to try them again, or that he and Ian were too different now. He was scared things had changed too much, but fuck, he wanted Ian in a way he hadn’t wanted anyone else, so he had to be prepared, just in case.

 

Jonah and Luis had helped him out, had gotten him another job working security with Jonah’s brother, who even had an apartment he could let him stay in so he even had his own place.

 

He was back for about a week, getting his shit together, getting a bed - a nice big fucking one - a couch, a TV, shit like that, when he decided he needed to do something.

 

He knew Ian’s schedule - they had discussed it as a ways to call each other, so he knew he wasn’t home when he went over there to see Fiona of all people.

 

“Mickey! Get in here before the cops see you!” she cried, pulling the dark-haired male into her house. “What the fuck are you doing here? Ian’s not here he’s at work. I swear if you’re here to fuck him up again I will personally see to it that you can longer fuck anyone, especially my brother.”

 

“Fucking hell bitch, and shit I know that,” he said, glaring at her before he sighed. “I got off. The cops found me in fucking Mexico, some shit about my lawyer set it up so I’m off. I’m on fucking probation again and I’ve got a fucking real job and a real place and I want to fucking talk to you about him.”

 

She looked at him and nodded. The thing about Mickey was, he had tried so hard for Ian, and she knew that, but it was hard on them both, but maybe this was the start that they needed.

 

“What do you want with him?”

 

“To start over.”

 

…

 

Ian came home from work, surprised to find the house empty for once. He found a scribbled note on the fridge, something about running to the store, be back soon, whatever. He wanted to call Mickey, but wasn’t sure if he was working or not, so he didn’t as he went to his room and laid on his bed, trying not to think about his shitty day.

 

He had just began to drift off when he heard the front door open and the stomp of feet on the stairs. He didn’t think anything of it, there was always people in this house. He let himself fall into a light sleep, only to hear his bedroom door slam open and a singsong voice yell at him.

 

“IAN GALLAGHER!” He was jolted back to when he was 15 and running for his life from the local gang, making him sit up right in the bed to see Mickey standing over him, that shit-eating grin on his face. Ian stared at him in disbelief before he got off the bed and hugged MIckey.

 

“How the fuck are you here? What about the fucking cops? What about my fucking family? Holy fuck MIck-” A hand was slammed over his mouth to make him stop talking and he met bright blue eyes that watched him with that same smile.

 

“I’m fucking here, and will tell you everything you wanna know, but first, you gotta come with me, k?”

 

“Okay,” Ian said, knowing he’d follow this psychotic asshole anywhere.

 

…

Mickey led the way, surprised Ian had agreed so easily, and then he reached over and grabbed Ian’s hand, holding it in his as they walked down the sidewalk, their fingers loosely twined together. He could see that stupid grin on Ian’s face, the same one that he always had when it came to Mickey, ever since they first started this.

 

They walked like that for about 15 minutes before Mickey led them to a small cluster of apartments.

 

“Mick?”

 

“I live here. By myself,” Mickey said, not letting go of Ian’s hand as he unlocked the door to number 14. “The dude from Mexico hooked me up. All legal shit taken care of.” 

 

“Yeah?” Ian asked, plopping down onto the couch and kicking his feet up onto the the coffee table, waiting for Mickey to keep talking. “So what happened?”

 

“Fucking pigs came to ol’ Mexico and found me, said I was free, my lawyer had done some shit. Got some probation. Shit like that. Got a job. A real one. Working security. Pays good.”

 

“So you’re good to go? You’re free?”

 

“Yeah. Even got my tattoo fixed up. Two ‘L’s now,” Mickey said, eyebrows raising a bit, making Ian chuckle before he looked at him.

 

“A free man, with a job and your own place. Have it all now don’t you?”

 

“All except you, Firecrotch.” Ian looked at him and then looked away, a blush rising on his cheeks. “I know we can’t go back to the way things were, and I don’t want that. I want to start over. With us. I want to take you on fucking dates, hold your fucking hand, and kiss your fucking face any time I fucking want, Gallagher. I want all of that shit with you. I fucked up the first time. I don’t want to fuck up this time.”

 

Ian had waited so long, almost 10 years to hear those words, 10 long years of them playing this fucking game around each other, to hear those words come from Mickey.

 

“It’s been a fucking year Mick. A year since I’ve seen you, kissed you. A year since I’ve been with you, with anyone, and now you think you can just waltz back into my fucking life and just ask me to-” Ian was cut off by Mickey kissing him, but it wasn’t their usual fast-paced, desperate kissing they had always done.

 

It was a slow, sensual kiss that was far too filled with a softness that Ian didn’t know Mickey was really capable of.

 

“I fucking love you, Ian fucking Gallagher,” he muttered, holding Ian’s head in between his hands. Ian’s breath hitched a bit - it was the first time Mickey had looked him in the face when he had said it, and he knew it meant it, and fuck it if he didn’t want to say it back.

 

“I fucking love you too, Mickey fucking Milkovich.”

 

“Damn right you do. Now get your ass up, we’ve got a date to go on.”

 

“A date?”

 

“Fuck yeah. We got lots of time to make up for. Told you Firecrotch, we’re doing it right this time.”

 

Ian grinned, that same stupid smile of his he always got around Mickey, and let himself be pulled up by the shorter male.

 

“Now get the fuck out of my apartment, go home, get all snazzed up. I’ll come get you in about an hour.”

 

“Where we going?”

 

“Fuck you, that’s where we’re going. It’s a fucking surprise. Go home. Get dressed. Let me take you on a fucking date.”

 

Ian grinned and nodded.

 

“See you soon.”

 

“Damn right you will.”

 

…

**Author's Note:**

> So, debatable if this should be multi-chapter or not. It's open-ended somewhat, but for now, it's just a oneshot.


End file.
